The old chief’s eyes glistened with covetousness.

“I want some shining knives; I want to see a vessel that will not break when my squaws let it fall on a rock.  I want some of the marvels ye keep in your lodges.”

Argall smiled; the fly had caught the fish for which he angled.

“As soon as a man may hurry to Jamestown and back they shall be thine if—­thou wilt do what I ask of thee.”

“And what is thy will?” Suspicion had now awakened in the Indian.

“Hearken!” continued Argall.  “Thou knowest that Powhatan hath stolen from us sundry arms and keeps in captivity some of our men.  If he will make peace with us we need not take our war party through the forests to Werowocomoco, and the lives of many Indians will be spared.”

Here Japezaws grunted, but Argall did not appear to notice it.

“If we held a hostage of Powhatan, someone who was dear to him, we could force him to do as we would.”

He paused and glanced at the Indian who, whatever he may have thought, betrayed nothing.

“If thou wilt entrust the Princess Pocahontas to us,” continued Argall, “she shall be taken to Jamestown and there detained in all gentleness, in the house of a worthy lady, until Powhatan agreeth to our terms and she will be conveyed in safety to her father.  And for thee, for thy help in this matter, such presents shall be sent thee as thou hast never seen, such as no one, not even Powhatan, hath yet received.”

Japezaws was silent a little.  The maiden was his guest, and his people had always upheld the sacred duties of hospitality.  But he knew that no harm would befall her.  The friendship of the English for her was known to all his tribe and the great affection of her father to this, his favorite daughter.  In a day or two she would be ransomed by Powhatan, and for his part in the matter, he, Japezaws, would gain what he so greatly longed to possess.  He wasted neither time nor words: 

“Meet me here at sunset, and I will bring her to thee.”

Claw-of-the-Eagle had not thought to stir away from Wansutis’s lodge for many days to come.  Food in plenty was stored there and he had need to busy himself with the making of a new bow and arrows.  But Wansutis, letting fall the stone with which she was grinding maize, looked up suddenly as if she heard distant voices.  The youth, however, heard nothing.  Then she said: 

“Son, if in truth thy mind is set upon a certain maiden for thy squaw, go seek her at once in the village of the Patowomekes.  She hath been there over long.”

Claw-of-the-Eagle did not ask for any explanation of his mother’s words.  He had learned that she seemed to possess some strange knowledge he could not fathom, but which he respected.  Therefore, without any discussion, with only a word of farewell, he took his bow and quiver and his wooing pipe and set forth.

As he approached the village of Japezaws at the end of several days’ journey, he said to himself: